


The Personal Journal of DrJHW

by BakerTumblings



Series: Repairing the Broken Things [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Diary/Journal, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Has No Boundaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerTumblings/pseuds/BakerTumblings
Summary: This is the personal, unpublished journal of Dr. John Watson that parallels a little bit of the telling of the story, Repairing the Broken Things. As to personal or private, well ... we all know how that goes when you live with a consulting detective.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Repairing the Broken Things [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879567
Comments: 30
Kudos: 80





	The Personal Journal of DrJHW

**Author's Note:**

> This piece will make much more sense if the first of the series is read first.
> 
> Repairing the Broken Things is the story of John's hurt, Sherlock's comfort, and how the healing happened.
> 
> Kintsugi: Beauty in Brokenness.
> 
> ++
> 
> The writing may seem a bit choppy and is supposed to mimic what speech to text might be like.

July 18

Sherlock called - well texted of course - me today, there was a case. Rosie was just about to go in for a nap. When I begged off, there was radio silence. I know he gets it. It was only slightly better than last week when he summoned me while I was at work. I couldn't go then either.

July 20

Regular routine day. After dinner, decided to get Rosie outside for a bit of a walk (well, okay she usually ends up either in my arms or the pushchair) mostly to tire her out so she sleeps better. She got very excited and grabbed a few toys on the way - her bumblebee blanket and a play magnifying glass, both gifts from Sherlock the other week for no reason. If she was disappointed we didn't go to Baker Street, it didn't show.

I might have been, in truth.

July 23

Actually managed to join Sherlock on a case, Rosie at a minder, and I can't even begin to actually detail all the issues, the troubles, but suffice it to say there was an unsafe raid, and the potential for all sorts of ... well, actually it could have been dangerous. It actually gave me a bit of a nightmare later, waking up drenched thinking I'd nearly left Rosie without either parent now. It was quite unpleasant and I find myself hoping that, eventually, he'll stop asking me to join him. I just can't ...

For my safety and ... well, that other reason too.

August 1

I RSVPd for the med school reunion in Scotland. Mostly, I need a break from the mundane, routine. Brings back another timeslide ... I remember telling Ella once that nothing ever happens to me, and then beginning the blog with that very statement. Shortly after that, I met Sherlock. I'm not a superstitious person but I don't think I would ever recommend saying that again. Ever.

I know we can't turn back time but good grief, there are times I wish we'd done things differently. Not done some things (getting shot comes immediately to mind, the debacle with Mary, mourning my best friend for two years, and each time I recall the anger-induced ... 

I wish we had done other things, and somehow, since I know what they involve I'm not going to write them. I can't bear it. My own stupidity, acting out. What if things had taken a different turn?

It's the same reason, when he asked me to move back in, that I just couldn't. Too much ... want. Too much at stake. What if my control slipped again, what if, what if, what if. And oh god the regret.

So, yeah, move on Watson, the reunion. Rosie's a pretty good traveler, so far, and I think she'll do fine. Going to introduce her to some remote family up there, she'll actually spend the night with Aunt Olivia. Lucky break, she can watch her, because she goes out of town the day after.

It'll be nice to see everyone. Maybe rekindle some friendships. Who knows. Can't believe it's been 20 years since then.

August 8

Reserved the car today, bought some fun things for Rosie, new toys for the trip, a lift-the-flap book. Told her we're going to take a little car ride. She went right over to her nappy bag, started throwing stuff in there. Even the special green blanket went in. Course it came right back out because she hates being parted from that thing for more than a couple of minutes.

Made a list for Aunt Olivia, the bedtime ritual. It doesn't seem a problem for me, I don't mind (and I'm used to it), she needs the routine, but writing it all down seemed a little ... I don't know, excessive.

Thought about calling Sherlock. I guess because when I rented the car, they showed me my account online, asked if anything had changed, to verify my info. His name is still listed as alternate contact. I had them update my address and that this time I needed the car seat included. But other than that, the rest, the details, really don't matter. I left it alone, Sherlock Holmes listed in the record, of course it won't be needed. But it did occupy more than a little space in my mind today.

I miss... I was going to say him. But truth, I miss us. Miss what we had, miss even worse what we could have had. Regret is a terrible demon.

August 9

Leaving tomorrow. Packed. Good grief, the things required when traveling with toddler. Second guessing the decision. Long trip for barely casual acquaintances and family I haven't seen in forever. No matter, paid for, decision made. I'm going I suppose. Eh, I'll be home in a couple of days.

Maybe I'll make that phone call once I get back.

August 10

Dropped Rosie off, hung out a little with Aunt Olivia, what a great place. Her place is neat, open space, very welcoming. There were goats and Rosie was awesome (and fascinated) when I left, didn't do much more than wave at me. It's a couple hours until the reunion starts, should be a good time.

I'm really glad I came up. So far anyway, fingers crossed. Hanging out for another few days, some other people to see lined up, left it all kind of loose but that might be fun while we're here.

London seems an eternity away. Night sky very different from up here, clearer, more stars it seems. And cooler. Remembering how the night sky looked from the cemetery. And all the coldness and empty ... longing. Funny, it's like seeing that rental agreement, his name there, that he was my alternate contact, has just triggered so much. Wonder what he's doing tonight. Not that I would have invited him (he'd have said no anyway).

Things could have been so different. I wouldn't be here typing into an online journal by myself for starters. But ... I didn't, and he didn't. And these are my choices. (and what was I thinking, considering inviting him along to something like this? He would have been an absolute nightmare in a room of strangers, honestly)

Fucks sake, quip moping. The reunion tonight is just so much needed for my own mental well-being. Reminiscing back to more carefree days. Going to have a great time.

[Mobile reset]

[Data resynchronisation required. Error can include hardware malfunction, software update, damage, or code update. Go to settings for more information]

[Please update your settings. The operating system detects that some of the apps may be corrupted and maintenance may be required]

[Mobile device may have experienced damage. If you continue to experience difficulty, please take the device to a reputable service center.]

[Charge complete.]

[It has been two weeks since you last logged in. Welcome back, DrJHW]

August 28

Trying techs to speech. Might take a few minutes to figure-eight out. This is bloody ridiculous. Everything hurts. It's the middle of the night. I am so groggy, foggy. Hung over. Except not. No one sleep sin hospitals. Will sort this out late or. Scotland. I'm never coming back here. Thank full no memory of getting hit. Should try to get some sleep. Nurse just in, paying pills. No paint piles. Forget it. Sure lock will come back tomorrow. Sure lock. No. Sure lock. Not sure lock. I'm done. For fuck's sake. Now that types clearly, go figure. So I'll say that again because I can, for fuck's sake.

August 29

So the nurse just helped me resynch the mobile and some tips for speech to text entry. Added some speech cues, taught it some sounds. Hopefully now it will recognise the difference between pain and paint. And Sherlock is now Sherlock. Because actually trying to text would be impossible with swollen fingers and one wing. Again it's late, Sherlock was here, and I wanted to kill time with some odd memories of the last ... well, I don't remember much. The nurses have helped but I lost almost a week.

Hey cool the words 

Apparently every time you want to speak the words quote new paragraph end quote you actually make it happen. So yeah, never mind because yeah never mind. But it will make the writing more clear dividing thoughts which are going to be disjointed.

And also when you speak the word, you get a, the little thing in the middle of a sentence, that separates clauses. You know, a, Fuck it never mind.

The first memory, one of them anyway, is really thick fog. Detached. Being suffocated and absolutely panic stricken that Rosie needed me and i couldn't get to her and she was crying and calling and there was beeping from a siren which I now guess was a monitor alarm from event. No not event event. No a ventilator. Jesus Christ. And every time I heard her crying it was like torture and everything hurt and people were hurting me and hurting her and I couldn't get to her. And it kept happening. It was the hell of war and combat, I was needed to render aid but I was suffocating and then floating away again only to relive the nightmare. Until I heard Sherlock. His voice. It made absolutely no sense at all. And he was calm. It was like a voice in the storm. It was I can't even say how monumental hearing him was and it gave me focus. And he was telling me to settle down and breathe.

I remember him right in my face, his bright eyes and his worry lines and him holding my hand. And touching my shoulder. It didn't occur to me until later that I recognised the touch. It was familiar because he'd probably been doing it for a while. He was probably explaining things and nothing was processing. But he was there and I vividly recall thinking we were both dead.

I remember him wiping my eyes and being horrified that I was crying. I mean I was horrified.

I was pretty sure that since I didn't hear Rosie crying any more that she had died. And then I thought that maybe I had died too because why else would Sherlock be there and I kept dreaming those crazy drug-induced and fever-related dreams like back in the army. My unit and men dying while I did surgery on them while under attack. The pain kind of grounded me. And I remember being tied down. Restrained. And bloody hell for all the times as a doc I did that or ordered that or helped the nurses with that being restrained is a fucking nightmare.

Even when I was finally able to write and he told me Rosie was okay I didn't believe him. And then when he wouldn't bring her to me immediately I figured he was lying to me.

These are all snippets of vague things I remember and they sort of rise to the surface. The details are vague but the fear that was very real.

Oh yeah and I remember his hand on mine and being a little bit relaxed and floating probably medications and then all of a sudden his hand was gone and I panicked and thought he had left me. Or died too. I think maybe I was dreaming and he was telling me to keep my eyes on him like that damned mobile call from the bloody roof. His bloody note.

Gee I can't understand why I have trust issues.

Of course now I know that she is all right and that I'm breathing okay. Oxygen low nurse here have to stop for tonight.

August 30

Out of I see you. No I see you. Oh for gods sake I'm not trying to fix that. My new room is quieter. Chest tube is out broken ribs are still a bitch. They brought Rosie in I guess it was yesterday and it was a disaster. Absolute bloody nightmare. She hates me because I deserted her and I don't blame her and this is what I get for all my misdeeds and for disappointing everyone in my entire life and for bad choices and for the accident and being selfish by coming here in the first place. For losing her mother. Abandonment. For hurting people and I'm not elaborating more about that. I asked for medication for pain and to sleep and it isn't working and I suppose I deserve that too. 

August 30

A few hours of sleep and things look well not quite as bad. Rosie should be back today and maybe it will be better this time.

It certainly can't be worse, her clinging to him as if I was truly someone she should be frightened of. As if her life depended on him. I guess that makes two of us then, for that, us Watsons.

Texted Sherlock, talked with him a few minutes. God I miss him. And I can't wait to get out of here and get home and oh yeah, forgot to mention he canceled my lease so now I'm homeless too. I don't know that I can bear going to Baker Street. Once I get there I'm never going to want to leave.

Some other random things about this adventure. Finding out that my arm cast is blue because Sherlock picked it out.

Finding out that the driver who hit me died in the crash. That was absolutely devastating news.

Finding out that I apparently asked for Sherlock to stay in the room while they pulled out the end oh tray key ill tube. Oh whatever phonetics is fine it's not like I will ever want to re-read this. But visitors staying in the room for that never happens because has a little bit of potential to be dangerous not to mention it's disgusting. But I supposedly asked and he agreed and the nurse was okay with it. Although it is Sherlock so he probably was morbidly fascinated. I was more awake and aware when he stayed as they took the chest tube out and I was grateful for him then because despite the pain med it wasn't a very enjoyable experience. I do recall him physically forcing me to look at him while they fussed with the dressings and sutures.

Mycroft apparently flew up for a quick visit, bought Sherlock dinner which he probably didn't eat and he got something for the nurses in the unit. He is the one that brought the tablet so I could see Rosie over Skype or whatever. I don't really remember him being there.

I'm pretty sure I gave people the finger entirely too many times. Sherlock definitely. But one of the night nurses too can't remember her name but she was hysterically funny and tried to get me to do the thumbs up instead. She called it something like the Watson Finger rating scale and told me either gesture answered any of the questions she asked.

She didn't get to meet Sherlock, which in hindsight is probably good.

And I hope I'm not reading into things but it certainly seems that there is some I don't know chemistry between us now. When he looks at me, there's something else now. Affection maybe. I think that I almost lost him again and I want. I want. I just I don't know how to say it I want.

Hey look if you speak ... you get ... Quote dot dot dot end quote. Who knew. And hey I wonder if the? Works the same way. Apparently it does. Hooray for tech savvy punctuation.

August 31

The nurse was just here and I just barely saved the journal entry and turned to a game on the phone in order not to get caught. I'm sure she noticed. But she sat with me for a while and actually listened and that part was very nice. It makes me remember serving with some really wonderful nurses in the army, that they spent so much more time with the patients and I never really understood how very important that part is. Her name was Ellen and her actions were louder than words to be certain. She listened as if I really mattered, as if helping me was important to her. I know she had a million other things to do but she ... it was very refreshing.

Leaving today. Absolutely dreading the ambulance ride. Dreading being isolated, constantly worrying that something happened you no like a car accident haha because don't they say that lightning never strikes twice. I can't turn the worry off and it's a terrible cycle. Worry and try not to expect the worst and what if something else happens. Can't stop worrying try to relax and it only seems to get worse. Trying not to think about it is just absolutely pointless. I can't do it.

I wish I could just fast forward today and skip the whole bloody interval of time by myself and just be home. Baker Street is sounding a little more all right.

For all I used to tell patients to take one day at a time it's extremely hard to live there. I wonder about Rosie's day care and my job and how long I'm going to need to wear oxygen and what if I end up needing it long term? And on a humourous note about that, what if the oxygen becomes permanent and Sherlock decides to start smoking again? Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson and all of emergency services are going to be very unhappy about that combo.

We were talking and he asked if I thought it would be a good idea to stop in the I see you no wait for pity's sake no the other nursing unit to say thank you and good-bye. I barely recall anything about it and all of that is a bad association but he seems to really want to and to bring them coffee and a food basket. I mean I guess he and Rosie can leave from there just as easily when they go catch the train.

September 2

So for all that worrying Sherlock had made these sneaky arrangements and Mycroft and Molly came to get Rosie and Sherlock actually rode in the back of the ambulance with me. It was still a very long and boring and tedious trip. I'm deliberately avoiding writing about nearly losing my shit not to mention my mind at a point where the driver swerved, a close call, that quick reflexed sudden lurching and steering to avoid something. It's pretty awful riding backwards after being in an accident. But thank god he was there I don't know what I would have done if I'd been on my own.

Getting up the steps was ridiculous and by the time everyone was standing around like waiting for me to do a trick or something I couldn't explain it other than that I was very overwhelmed and exhausted and hurting and ready to get emotional. But thankfully Sherlock noticed and threw everyone out and let me calm myself. Okay he sat with me and stayed very close, offered some distraction with Rosie. More, he held my hand while I nearly lost it. But there it is.

He's in the shower now. I'm not ready to share this particular thing this journal with him yet.

September 5

He's out with Rosie, just a quick walk.

There has been a bit of physical touch, some kissing, which has been umm very very good actually. I feel like a twelve year old girl going dear diary so I'm not saying anything more about that. Other than finally. And I think we are both very okay with these changes.

Remembering other terrible things include the incentive spirometer which I am going to gleefully smash once I have been declared one hundred percent again. I'm beginning to hate the walking boot too. It's heavy and cumbersome and ... it's always just there and the pain underneath in the ankle is pretty exquisite some of the time.

I know I shouldn't complain but there it is. I'm tired. And my nose and ears are sore from this damned oxygen tubing. I tried going without it when no one was around and not only did my sats drop into the low eighties but I actually felt particularly air hungry and had some chest tightness. So there's that answered, yes I need it. But it doesn't mean I have to like it.

Had another flashback to the hospital, just another memory, of overhearing conversations at the nurses station. There must've been a cardiac arrest or something and they were laughing afterward and the patient had died and while I remember that of course it just struck me. Actually I remember from Barts too, as well as the army, about going to pronounce someone and then going to grab lunch. And I remember vividly giving bad news to patients, many patients and sometimes the families were there too. And afterward you just kind of move on and do what you have to. Meanwhile somewhere in some room or at home or in a waiting room there are people who have just been absolutely devastated by what has happened. These I dunno defining moments, where a very peripheral happening for one person completely alters another persons life. I didn't find it upsetting or anything. But it kind of hit me being on the other side of the bed so to speak, that someone is always listening.

September 6

Who knew a bath would be so exhausting. And humiliating to need such help. Surprisingly, he was rather low-key. 

I have taken up residence in the first floor bedroom. Earlier today I offered to share the bed. Guilt is already so high on some days, regret I guess. Kicking somebody out of their bedroom not to mention bed isn't something I wanted to add to the list.

He agreed and I have to admit that it was nice to reach across the bed under the covers in the dark room and hold his hand.

I can't really use the word lucky to describe all of this, but that part ... well, it's a relief.

September 8

So yeah keeping an online journal certainly hasn't escaped someone's notice. Today he mentioned that he was going to take Rosie to the park and asked if twenty minutes would be long enough for whatever I needed to say and if that wasn't enough time perhaps I would like to dictate to him and he could certainly type as fast as necessary. And he mentioned that he would fix my grammar, word choices, and overall edit my over-romanticised blather as needed.

I may or may not have used the word dictate in a completely inappropriate way.

Feeling much better now.

Things are good. Very very good.

September 20, 1041 am

The cast is off, finally and thank god, so typing on a computer is going to be much faster and easier.

Although it doesn't matter as this is probably the last entry.

And I'm going to end with cliches, letting that, yes, I guess I agree, the romantic part of me just run with it.

Home is Baker Street, I suppose, but home even more importantly is with Sherlock and Rosie. The two of them are ... adorable together and in all likelihood the best things that have ever happened to me. It feels ... right and complete.

Funny couple of things, recently. We went for a walk, he and I while Rosie was at playgroup or something, ended up passing an artists shop. We were in the middle of a conversation about something that now doesn't matter, but apparently both of us noticed something in the window, what I thought was a mosaic bowl etched in gold. We both remembered it and ended up talking about it later, how it just sort of reached out and grabbed both of our attentions. So a day or so later, we took Rosie in her pushchair and went back. I was a little nervous it would be gone but there it was still in the window.

It was one of those broken and repaired, handcrafted pieces. I wouldn't have remembered the term, but it was Kintsugi. Where a piece of pottery is painted and then broken - ruined - scarred, and then repaired, the broken pieces reassembled, the seams all lined up and sealed with a gold adhesive. It is ... well beyond description mostly, but there are leaves and vines and handpainted everything of course, and there is little bits of fruit on the vine and some accents on the pottery. The repair work is breathtaking. The hue and tint of gold really flattering, the lines course and rough and jagged where they're supposed to be. The overall work is perfect though which is funny to write because it isn't perfect, it's broken and repaired and flawed and so much more beautiful because of it.

Sherlock and I had a little moment talking about it, identifying it with our own scars and brokenness. I can't say enough about the piece.

Now if only Rosie won't break it.

The other oddity is that this bowl, in a studio like where we bought it, should be like _hundreds_ of pounds. But the price he quoted us was ... clearly reduced, intentional, a ... choice. It's like he wanted us to have it. It sits in the bedroom - our bedroom. I absolutely love it.

It would look really great with a couple of wedding rings in it, I think.

September 20, 1156 am

John: Although I would agree that the rings would compliment the bowl nicely, I don't know about you, but I really don't plan on taking mine off. I know yellow gold is rather traditional, but I was thinking platinum would look more appealing on your hand.

Now, seems like there's something we should discuss, unless you want to carry on this conversation via your not-exactly-secure, poorly-password-protected blog. SH

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed a little sappy story with a happy ending, and so I revisited the Broken Things to offer a slightly different perspective. And a totally hearts & flowers ending. Because sometimes RL sucks.
> 
> ++
> 
> Squint a little at what might happen to a mobile when damaged. Also squint at some of the narrative in speech to text particulars. I included both for clarity and readability. And amusement.
> 
> ++
> 
> PSA: Written during Covid 19 pandemic. Please wear your mask. Social distance as much as possible. [Yes, this means don't go to large parties yet and be extremely careful if you go on vacation. And don't share your vape with anyone. Yes all of these RL examples are presently in a local Covid unit with outcomes yet to be determined. _Please._


End file.
